


Toast

by RunOn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, Short Story, mild psychological thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunOn/pseuds/RunOn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grown man shouldn't be intimidated by a toaster oven, but I was sure the damn thing was out to get me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast

**Author's Note:**

> This short-story was inspired by a prompt from @writeworld on tumblr.

_I would rather have had toast, but instead I sat eating a bowl of cold cereal at the tiny kitchen table, glaring at what was obviously the toaster oven from hell._

_A grown man shouldn’t be intimidated by a toaster oven, but I swear the damn thing was out to get me._

_I tossed my bowl and spoon into the sink with the other dishes and went to clean up for work, giving one last look at my nemesis._

_Three weeks ago it botched my job interview and then it ruined my date with the first girl I’d had over in a while. I hated that stupid appliance with a passion. And I’m sure it hated me. Why else was it trying to ruin my life?_

* * *

 

It all started a year ago, when me and Ben moved into an apartment together to split rent and so I could stop living with my folks. My mom gave me a toaster oven. I have no idea why, but she was convinced it was an absolute necessity.

It sat unused on the counter for six months.

Then Ben started using it to toast his bagels in the morning. He’d turn the dial and set the timer and toast the bagel until it was just burnt around the edges; he always liked a little char. I thought it was acrid and bitter and ruined the whole thing. But he drank coffee too. Maybe he just couldn’t taste it after drinking his coffee.

I’d never used it before, but a few weeks ago I thought I’d give it a try and make myself a nice breakfast before going for my job interview. A hot breakfast would settle my nerves.

(I was working front end manager for the Kroger grocery store that I started at  as a teenager. It worked for now, but wasn’t the job I wanted to have for the rest of my life.)

This interview was with NOAA for a low-level meteorology position. The shift work would be a bitch, but I’d finally get to use the meteorology degree I’d busted my ass for over at the University of Oklahoma.

But the toaster burnt the toast. Even at a low setting. So I had to scramble for something else for breakfast. I decided to just get an Egg McMuffin, but there ended up being a line- a long one- and someone ahead had some complaint about their order.

I was ten minutes late for my interview.

I never heard back from them.

Then a couple of weeks ago, Ben was out of town so I had my girlfriend over and made some dinner. I put the garlic bread in the toaster oven knowing I’d need to keep an eye on it. I wondered if Ben’s high setting had just stuck on it. But watch as I might, the garlic bread _never_ toasted.

The door bell rang and I let Alice in. She was a sight and we were both a little awkward and shy as this was her first time here like this. We’d met up on dates and fooled around in the car a bit, but this was the first time having the place alone. I thought we might be taking our relationship to a new and exciting level.

Then the smoke alarm shrieked and smoke was coming out of the toaster. The garlic bread was a charred mess and the whole apartment smelled of burnt garlic. While I was busy cleaning up that disaster, the noodles over cooked, the sauce splattered all over the stove. We essentially had salad for dinner. I was so frustrated I couldn’t even enjoy it and Alice kept trying to get me to calm down, which only irritated me further. She left as soon as dinner was over. We didn’t even get to the movie...or anything else.

My roommate came home from his business trip and I decided to have him teach me how to use the damn thing. The jerk seemed to think it was hilarious that I couldn’t use a simple appliance. He showed me how to use it though, and it was exactly as I had done. He made his own toast, and it was perfect, I made toast and it was burnt black. We had a whole loaf of bread and I figured, hey, it’s just a mistake. I tried again. Burnt. Black. And again. Char. And again. More burned fucking toast. I’d watch and watch and it’d be fine, but the minute I looked away, it was charred.

Ben was convinced I was just a screw up. He made another batch of toast and it was perfect.

I was starting to hate that damn toaster.

The next week, with my hand on the door to head off to work at Kroger, I took one last glance at the kitchen, and decided, I’d had enough. With purposeful strides, I crossed the apartment, unplugged the damned toaster, and threw it in the trash out back. Satisfied, I left for work.

When I got home, the toaster was back on the counter.

“The fuck?” I actually said out loud.

“Oh! Hey!” Ben said, walking into the kitchen. He was already home from work.

“What’s this?” I asked, pointing at the toaster.

“Oh, some _idiot_ threw the toaster in the trash.”

“It’s broken,” I replied, ignoring the dig.

“No it’s not, I just made a bagel with it. Don’t you go grocery shopping? There was nothing in the fridge.”

“Ugh, it burns everything! We’ll get  a new one.”

“We don’t need a new one, this one is fine. Just because you-”

“I know how to make toast dammit!”

Great, now it has me fighting with my roommate.

I took a deep breath, and looked at the floor, “Fine, whatever. You keep using the burn-every-damn-thing toaster.

“I will!”

“You’ll get cancer eating charred crap like that.”

“Won’t”

“Will.”

“ _Won’t_ ”

“Ugh! Whatever, I’m going for a run.” I had to get out of there.

While running I had an idea. Not brilliant, but an idea for getting rid of the toaster without Ben swooping in and putting it back.

Fire.

I was pretty sure it was against our residential agreements, but I didn’t give a damn, I hated that toaster more and more. It ruined my job interview, my date, made my best friend think I was a moron. I’d had enough. If I burnt it, it couldn’t burn anything anymore.

I set several logs in the fire pit we had out back in the green common area between buildings, then put the toaster on them, then heaped more logs around it, poured on the starter fluid and lit a match.

I rocked back on my heels and gazed at the immolation of my nemesis in pleasure, when suddenly the back door slammed open.

“What the fuck?!? What are you doing!” Ben shouted at me, his eyes wild. He turned sharply and got the hose.

“No!” I cried, “NO! I hate this damn toaster. It burns everything! It’s worthless!” God I hated how whiny my voice sounded.

My roommate ignored my pleas, turned the hose on, and doused my fire. Despite the fact it had blazed pretty quickly and must surely have gotten pretty hot, the toaster came out of the flames... _unscathed_.

The next morning it was on the counter again.

Mocking me.

And my cold cereal.

Dammit.

Ben wouldn’t talk to me either. He was angry I tried to ruin a perfectly good toaster. He didn’t see things the way I did. That toaster was out to get me.

Ben left for work.

I waited a bit before making my move. When I was sure he wasn’t coming back, I unplugged the toaster and put it in the trunk of my car. I’d drop it off at the dump after work. It was too late to get there now.

* * *

 

 

The sky was all oranges and reds when I locked up my office at the Kroger, said goodbye to a handful of front-end clerks and turned the reins over to the night manager. The beauty of the setting sun gave me hope that this perverse nightmare would soon be over.

I drove straight over to the dump. They close after sunset so I had to hurry. I drove in, showed my ID to prove I was a county resident, paid my fee, backed my Mazda 6 up to the dumpster and opened up the trunk.

_Fuck. Me._

It was empty.

“The hell?” I said out loud, my voice a solid octave higher than normal. I rummaged through the crap in my trunk. The toaster was gone.

I checked the backseat. Maybe my memory was betraying me and the toaster had been in the back seat all along...Nope. Nothing.

I ran my hands through my hair and tugged at it in frustration. Where the hell was the toaster?

On the counter.

When I got home, that bastard was sitting on the counter. Had I forgotten it? I was sure I put it in my trunk this morning!

“You want to tell me what you were planning to do with our toaster?” Ben asked, suspicion lacing his tone, as he walked down the hall towards me.

I just looked at him.

“Are you...okay?” Ben asked taking in my hair that must be a tussled mess and my eyes that were wide and wild.

“NO!” I shot back. “NO, I am not okay, and I was throwing out that piece of shit toaster. How in the hell is it still sitting there in the kitchen. It was locked up in my trunk.”

Ben regarded me for a few seconds before answering. His eyes measuring me and looking...sad.  “I had a feeling you’d try something crazy today so I went over to the store during my lunch break, and sure enough you had that _perfectly good_ toaster in your trunk to do god-knows-what with it. I merely rescued it.” That's right. That jerk has a copy of my car keys, for emergencies.

“It’s not a good toaster,” I retorted, knowing I sounded like a petulant child.  Then because Ben is my best-friend and I don’t want to upset him I offered an olive branch, “We could get a new one. I could buy it. I don’t mind. I just don’t want to have this one.”

“This one is perfectly fine!” Ben pointed emphatically at the toaster. I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled. It sure as hell was _not_ a _good_ toaster. Ben raised his voice. “We don’t need a new one. Stop trying to throw it out or destroy it. It’s perfect! My bagels come out perfect every time! I hardly even have to watch it.” Ben took a deep breath, calming himself down, he had been practically yelling at me. No, check that, he _was_ yelling at me. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and more placating. “Look, I don’t know what you’re problem is, but I....I’m afraid it’s _not_ the toaster. Maybe you should...take a break and rest or something. You look tired.”

I was tired. I was fucking exhausted. That damn toaster was burning more than just my toast. It was burning through my life. I nodded assent to Ben, more to get him off my back than because I agreed with anything.

I needed to run.

I wanted to run away.

This was extreme. In two days it would be trash day. I could take care of it then.

* * *

 

“Dude! Would you stop!” My co-manager, Amy, nearly yelled at me.

“Sorry,” I answered her, contrite, and put my hand on my leg to stop the near-involuntary jiggling that I’d been doing all day.

I eyed the clock. I just wanted today to be over because then it would be tonight and then...tomorrow morning. And then this nightmare would be over. Minutes passed like hours. I did extra rounds through the store, checked and double checked inventories, made the schedule for the next couple of weeks, called a couple extra employees in to cover for a cashier who had a sick kid and another who just didn’t freakin’ show up.

Amy made me leave the office again. I went out to the loading dock and tried to walk off my nerves. I saw with relief that the sun was on its downward descent. _Finally_.

I cleaned my desk, double checked the schedule, went out front to be sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, let a couple of them go on break, before the post-work rush, then locked up my desk and left things with the night-manager, Tom.

I said nothing about the toaster to Ben when I got in. Just changed into my running clothes and went back out again on my run, like I normally would when this toaster wasn’t making life a living hell. Ben seemed relieved. Perfect. Get him feeling like this weird kick is over so he won’t know what I’m planning for tomorrow morning.

Run completed, I showered and made burgers on the grill out back for dinner. Still said nothing about the toaster. Hardly even looked at it.

After dinner Ben went out to meet with some friends at the bar. He gave me a funny look as he was leaving, but shook his head and said nothing. I just binge watched The Walking Dead on Netflix until I was too tired to stay awake. Ben wasn’t back yet when I finally collapsed in bed.

I woke up to the clattering clanging of the trash truck. Normally, it was a nuissance eliciting a slurred string of curses from my rudely awakened lips. Why the hell did it have to come at five-thirty in the morning? Like freakin’ wait until seven or seven-thirty. But not today. I felt a surge of excitement as i tugged on a pair of sweats from the floor next to my bed, ran to the kitchen, unplugged the demon that had plagued my life out, and ran out front, cutting across the grass median, toward the trash truck making its way through the complex.

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of me as someone tackled me from behind.

“Ben! What the fuck?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He panted. He was on top of me in only his boxers.

We must be a sight.

I hugged the toaster to my chest in an ironic show of affection. Ben worked to pry it from my grip, but I was not about to let go. It was going in that trash truck come hell or high water. I twisted and wrenched myself out of his grasp. Soon, we were both slick with dew from the grass and mud where the ground was damp from heavy rain we got over the weekend.

“Just give it to me!” Ben grunted.

“NO!” I growled back. “I’m getting rid of it!” I cried. I flipped him off me and began to run forward again, but with a lunge, his hand reached out and he pulled me backwards. He launched himself on top of me, but I rolled over out of his way. I was on hands and knees again and he was coming after me. We rolled again and I lost my grip on the toaster.

How in the hell did it come to this?

“I’ll get a new one!” I promised Ben. I really would a nice new one from I don’t know like one of those housewares stores, I don’t care. Anything but _this_ goddamned toaster.

“NO!” He shouted back at me. “NO! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you but you need to get help or something. This...is...ridiculous!” He grit out the words as we continued our brawl in the front of the apartment.

I pushed him off of me, and rolled over, looking up. And saw with dismay the truck was driving away.

I collapsed, laying in the grass and mud, all the fight gone out of me. It was over.

Ben stood over me, holding the toaster, giving me a strange, unreadable look.

I followed him back in the apartment. He installed the toaster back in its place on the counter.

“It’s me or the toaster,” I found myself saying. _What the hell?_ I sounded like a jealous girlfriend or something. But then again. I couldn’t live here with that...thing.

“You can’t be serious!” Ben said incredulously.

That was it. I was drawing the line, digging in my heels.

“Yes. Yes I am serious. It’s either that thing or me, Ben. Either it goes, or I do.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow at me. Damned condescending eyebrow-quirk. “You really mean that?”

“Yes,” I answered, trying to sound sure of myself and confident. If I didn’t sound like I was about to back down, maybe he’d back down and get rid of the toaster.

“Then, uh, I guess you can start packing. I’ll put out an ad for a new roomie so you can get out of the lease.”

“What?”

“You said you want out.”

“No, I want the toaster out.”

“Look,  we’ve been best friends for a long time, but you’re acting kinda crazy, and to be honest, you’re scaring me. I don’t think us living together is the best thing right now." He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. He really was fucking serious about this. "But you move out, get a grip on what ever it is that set you off, and we’ll see what we can do then. We’ll still be friends. I just don’t think we can live together.” He let go of me, and then went down the bathroom and started getting ready for work.

I must've stood in the kitchen for a good several minutes, mouth gaping, looking for all the world like a lost little boy.

Oh my god. He was serious. He chose the toaster. A goddamn toaster over me. Me who had been his best friend ever since he was the new kid in fifth grade, all through the awkwardness puberty and junior high, and high school, and even college.

Well, come to think of it, if that’s what all our years of friendship amounted to, then I didn’t need him either.

* * *

In two weeks, I found a small studio apartment I could rent on my own. I’d miss Ben’s company terribly, but maybe he was right and we’d do better on our own.

I had everything unpacked in short order. I didn’t have much anyway. I had to go to Goodwill to get my own TV. It was the old tube version. I made a simple TV stand with some boards and cinder blocks.

My mom came over to check out my new digs. She had that weird tenuous mom thing that balanced precariously between pride and worry. Like she was smiling, but on the verge of tears .

After a brief visit, she said, “Oh! I almost forgot! I got you a present! Let me just go outside and get it for you.”

“Need any help?”

“No, I’ll go get it. Be right back!” She grinned and then shut the door behind her.

A couple minutes later I heard a thump at the door. I opened it to reveal my mom with a large wrapped box in her hands.

Immediately, my mind ran through the possibilities. Too small to be a TV, too large to be a new game system. Damn, I missed Ben’s X-Box.

“I’ll just leave this here.” She set the unwieldy box on my small table. “I’ve got to go now. Love you!” She kissed my cheek. “Bye!” And she was out the door.

Curiosity burned in me as I peeled the paper away from the box.

As soon as I saw the brand, my heart froze like ice in my chest. I peeked under the paper. I didn’t even have to finish opening the present to know what it was. My chest heaved with deep breaths as I worked hard to not lose my shit.

Not a minute later it was in the dumpster.

I sure as hell didn’t need _that_.

* * *

 

A month later, Ben and I had patched up our fraying relationship. He came over to watch the newest Marvel movie. He brought beer, and I had snacks covered with some popcorn, chips and dip, and cookies.

He queued up the movie while I put the popcorn in the microwave.

The microwaved dinged.

An acrid smell filled my tiny apartment.

The microwave burned the popcorn.

_Fuck._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I did this for fun. Any and all errors are my own. Thanks for reading!


End file.
